


Easier Not Better

by BlueClue182



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Historical References, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Steve is sick at the beginning, Tiny Steve, but he's fine, but nothing explicit, hand holding, mention of Bucky with girls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23991199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueClue182/pseuds/BlueClue182
Summary: Steve is sick again and he and Bucky consider what Bucky's life would be like without having to take care of his best friend.That's it, that's the whole story.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020





	Easier Not Better

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020 "Hand-Holding" square.  
> Unbeta'd but I'd be happy to accept volunteers :D

Spring was supposed to be full of new life—baby animals and flowers blooming and the sun peeking out from behind the clouds once again. Finally, after months of grey, bleak weather and cold temperatures, there were girls on the street wearing skirts again, guys with their jackets slung over one shoulder, sunglasses resting gently on their foreheads. Coney Island bustled with activity. Soon enough the boardwalk would be too full to navigate without worrying about pickpockets. This time of year was about change, about—

“a-CHOO”

In their apartment, this time of year was also about hay fever and allergies. Swollen sinuses and mucus everywhere, a miserable blonde runt and the absolute worst few weeks while the trees woke back up and plants shook pollen into the air. Bucky rolled over in his bed. He was already a light sleeper before moving in with his best friend, who had a proclivity for late night asthma attacks and occasional vomiting. Steve _could_ take care of himself, as he often reminded Bucky, but the sounds of sick were often so violent that he couldn’t help it. He’d get up and shuffle his way to their kitchenette, turning on the kettle before Steve could protest. Bucky’s mother was a big believer in feeding every sickness, not just colds, and Bucky was no different.

Mrs. Barnes sent him home from Passover dinner with so much food he wasn’t sure where he’d keep it all. Their refrigerator worked most of the time, but the electricity cut in and out throughout the building recently and he was reluctant to rely on it. Sometimes he regretted living so close to his mother, but not when she filled up their fridge like this. And not when Steve needed home cooking—matzo ball soup so hot you couldn’t taste the first few bites, juicy slices of roast chicken reheated in tin foil with vegetables softened from cooking in stew. She spoiled the boys, really, who were much too old to be fed like this. But she and Sarah had been almost as close as their children, and she wouldn’t let either boy go hungry so long as she could help it.

Bucky sighed as he heard Steve retching followed by his rush to the bathroom. He got up and headed for the kitchen, mentally considering how much soup was still in the fridge and how long it would last should the power cut again.

When he made it to the bedroom, Steve was curled up under multiple blankets and Bucky’s own bed was bare.

“Nurse James at it again.” Steve was the only person who could use Bucky’s first name without getting pummeled. The only person besides his ma, obviously. A sick Steve especially could get away with whatever he wanted in Bucky’s book.

“For you, kid, anything.” He sat on the edge of the mattress and Steve sat up to eat.

“What would you do if I wasn’t sick all the time and in need of your services?” He rasped out and Bucky scoffed.

“I’d be bored. And I’d have way too many leftovers.”

“Eh. She sends those for me anyways.” Steve blew on the soup, then settled a bit as it warmed him from the inside out.

“I don’t know, I guess I’d…keep the place a little cooler, maybe get a cat…”

“You never wanted a cat.”

“Bull shit! I always wanted one to take out the mice that run around here like they own the place.”

“Pest control is different from a pet, Buck.” Bucky waved his hand in dismissal.

“Now you’re bein’ picky for the sake of an argument.”

“Yeah, well, you’re too nice to me when I get sick. Makin’ sure it’s still you behind the apron.”

“Don’t be so fragile and I won’t have to be so careful!”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “How would you know how fragile I was?”

He picked an empty glass up off the bedside table and mumbled to it. “You—you know what I mean…”

Steve put on a southern accent and held his spoon up with his pinky in the air. “Mr. Barnes I do believe you’re blushing.” Bucky slapped his hand.

“I’d get some new friends is what I’d do.”

Steve barked out a laugh that made him cough but didn’t deter his comeback. “Who do you think would take you as a friend?”

“I’m very popular, Rogers.”

“Uh huh.” Steve picked up a massive matzo ball with his fingers and bit from it, stuffing his mouth and groaning as he leaned back against the wall. Without thinking, Bucky reached forward and brushed his knuckles against Steve’s cheekbones. Steve hummed and leaned into Bucky’s touch. He opened his eyes and stared deeply at his best friend.

“Sometimes…” Steve trailed off.

“I know.” Bucky responded. Steve reached up and held Bucky’s hand in place.

“You’d be better off out in the world, enjoyin’ some dame’s company, takin’ her dancing, you know. People…they might take longer with you but they get suspicious. They whisper. I don’t know, Buck.” Steve dropped their hands into his lap, patted Bucky and then let him go. “Sometimes I think it would be better for both of us.”

A heavy silence filled the room. Bucky sighed and stood up. “Eat your soup, yeah?”

“You’re not gonna sit with me?”

“You finish that soup and I’ll sit with you all night. I gotta clean up the kitchen first.” Steve pouted but brought another spoonful of broth to his mouth.

Alone with his thoughts, Bucky began to imagine a real life without Steve. Of course he’d considered it before, and he’d come to much the same conclusion, about how easy it might make things. How much quieter. The apartment would be neater. Maybe less grief. He’d kissed girls, sure, and he’d done more with them, too, but he always found himself thinking about Steve at some point. And that was usually what determined his stopping point, more than anything. Maybe it was proximity, maybe Bucky was just so used to Steve’s dumb little mug all in his space…

He wished that could be true. But he knew that there were other times. Times when he wanted to go further with a girl, but he couldn’t manage without thinking about Steve on purpose. When he’d translate whatever she was saying into his mind, but in Steve’s voice. When he’d think about the charcoal on Steve’s fingers, the way the light caught his hair in the early morning, or the way his shirt rode up when he stretched before bed.

Steve knew him better than anyone else, never made his coffee wrong, and always at least pretended to listen when Bucky got excited about something he read in National Geographic. A life without Steve might be easier but it certainly wouldn’t be better.

The tiny blonde padded his way into the kitchen, wrapped in a quilt on which he was wiping his nose. Bucky noted with a smile that it was _his_ quilt being used as a tissue, not Steve’s. He handed off his now empty bowl and then flopped onto the couch.

“You should probably go back to bed.”

“I will.”

“Uh-huh.” Steve fiddled with the radio. “Steve.” Bucky warned.

“I’ll go, I promise. Just a few songs and then I’ll go.” Bucky left the bowl in the sink—he’d get to it later—and turned towards the couch. He was going to make some snide comment, try and convince Steve that he needed the rest. But they’d done that dance before, and Bucky was tired, and Steve looked...

Bucky sat next to him and stretched his arm across the back of the couch. “C’mere.” Steve hesitated. “I’m not gonna lug you off to bed, you punk.” Steve turned around and rested his head in Bucky’s lap, still slow to rest his full weight. Bucky pressed one hand on his hip and reached the other around to lace their fingers together. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, okay?”

“You getting’ mushy on me, Barnes?”

“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” Bucky pinched Steve’s hip, and then rubbed the spot with his whole hand.

“Not if it means we get to sit together, keepin’ each other warm.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand.

“For you, kid, anything.” 


End file.
